One Last Time - I'll Make It Feel Like Home

Chapter 17 - Liam

I never really caught a break after One Direction.

I went from one toxic management to another. Yes, my mental health has improved over the last five years. But that has taken so much work and time dedication.

I don't think I could do it again if it came down to it.

Ever since Niall dropped me off, I've pretty much been pacing around the house. Unable to sit still. I haven't talked to the other boys either, they probably want to be left alone.

That is until my phone buzzes with Harry's contact name followed by a series of text messages.

I didn't have it in me to check the texts until several hours later. But when I do, I regret not seeing them sooner.

Harry: I hope I'm not bothering you. I just wanted to see how you're doing.

Harry: Are you alright?

Harry: Have you heard from the others?

Harry: I'm worried about them, but they're not picking up..neither are you.

Harry: Do you hate me?

That last one, 'Do you hate me?', made tears well up in my eyes.

How can he think I hate him? Who could ever hate Harry? He's one of the nicest people I know.

Is he drunk? He probably is. I know I would be if I hadn't emptied all I had a couple of weeks ago.

I press the call button, holding the phone to my ear. I have to know if he's alright. Well, how bad he is.

After hearing it ring for what feels longer than it is, his voice erupts through the speaker.

"Hello. It's Harry. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Leave a message if you'd like. All the love."

A beep sounds, signalizing that his voicemail is over. Maybe I should leave a message other than just my breathing.

I clear my throat, making a decision on the spot. "Hey H. I tried calling you, but obviously you didn't pick up. I'm coming over. See you in a bit. Bye."

We shared our addresses when we were at Zayn's last night. Turns out Harry lives within a walking distance of my place. We've been living 15 minutes away from each other for the past three years and never ran into each other.

I've probably passed his house on my runs.

-

"What are you doing on the floor?", I ask.

Harry is sprawled out like a starfish next to his sofa, groaning in obvious pain. Did he fall?

"Just wanted to check how getting the air knocked out of me would feel.", he slurs while trying to push himself up.

I let out a chuckle, "And how did it go?"

"I feel like a dead cloud."

It takes everything in me not to burst out laughing at his choice of words. Instead, I move over where he's now almost sitting, taking a hold of his underarms to hoist him back up onto the sofa.

He's a lot lighter than I thought he would be.

I sit down next to him, ignoring the empty bottle on the coffee table, turning my attention back to the man next to me.

It's first then I notice the swelling around his eyes, splotchy redness on his skin. The obvious tear stains on his cheeks. How his lashes cling together around his red eyes. His hair is a mess on his head and he's still in Zayn's clothes.